


Daddy Issues

by Anonymous



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 09:51:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13702026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Veronica needs to know the truth.Written forthis prompt:"Veronica wants to know what FP knows about her dad's shady dealings. She takes a flirtatious approach to getting info out of him and gets a bit carried away..."





	Daddy Issues

She can’t wait for Archie to come to his senses. She can’t wait for the dance. She can’t go to class or to cheerleading practice or to Pop’s and laugh with her friends and pretend everything is okay. She can’t wait another damn second.

She puts on her shortest leather skirt and tries on every top she has. She doesn’t want to look like the rich bitch from New York. She doesn’t know what she should look like. In the end she decides black with a plunging neckline has never failed her before.

She takes cautious steps through the gravel of the trailer park in her three inch heels. When he opens the door she’s surprised to find him clean-shaven and clear eyed.

“Veronica Lodge,” she says brightly, and extends her hand.

He lets her in, for some reason.

“I’m a friend of Jughead’s,” she lies. It would have been a half-truth a few days ago, but what she intends to do tonight proves she’s no friend of his at all.

“You’re Hiram and Hermione’s girl.”

She swallows the spark of rage at hearing her mother’s name in his mouth. This is an opening; she shouldn’t blow it.

“You know my parents?”

He laughs. He’s handsome. Even at the party, when he’d pushed past her and she’d been paralyzed with fear, she had noticed he was handsome.

“Still not used to small town life, huh? We went to high school together. Everyone did.”

He gestures towards the couch, finally giving her permission to take off her coat and stop standing awkwardly in front of the door.

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, actually. My parents.”

“I know why you’re here, Veronica Lodge.” She panics until she realizes he’s staring at her cleavage. “Believe me, I’m flattered, but I’m not interested.”

“That’s disgusting. And you’re a terrible host.”

She gets up and stalks off into the kitchen, opening the fridge for something to do. There’s an untouched six-pack hidden at the very back. A foot dangling off the wagon. She grabs two bottles with a pang of guilt.

Jughead has been smiling lately. In front of people. In front of not-Betty people. When she’d asked Archie if she should be worried about an Invasion of the Body Snatchers situation, he’d told her that his dad had quit drinking. She knows this, all of this, makes her a bad person. But FP Jones is probably a murderer, and her dad is coming home, and he might be, too.

She opens both bottles, sets one on the table in front of FP, and wraps her lips around her own in a way she knows is alluring. He takes the beer.

“How well did you know my dad? In high school.”

“Not well. Real snob. Thought he was too good for everyone, except the Blossoms and your mother.”

“You probably weren’t very surprised, then, when you heard about what he did.”

“No. I wasn’t.”

By the time he’s finished the six-pack and dug out a hidden bottle of whiskey, she figures subterfuge is no longer necessary.

“I know about the drive-in.”

“Of course you do.”

“I know my dad does bad things. I want to know how bad.”

“You want to know how much of a bastard your old man is? He ruins people. He finds their price, gets them to sell their soul, and then, at the end, when they’ve done things they thought they would never do, he doesn’t even pay up.”

He’s gripping her arm tight, too tight.

“He got the damn drive-in, and then he sabotaged his own project just to get back at Fred. Sent people to beat up that kid. But you know the worst part of it?”

Her heart stops.

“He took my boy’s home away, and he got me to help him. I destroyed the roof over my son’s head for a couple grand.”

There it is. Her father isn’t a murderer, just a monster, and FP Jones is just a sad, selfish, pathetic, trainwreck of a man. She has what she came here for. She can leave now. She should leave now.

She straddles his lap and kisses him.

He grips her arm again, almost as tight, and his other hand pulls on her hair. She sighs into his mouth when he lets her breathe. She can feel him getting hard as she grinds down against him.

“Thought you weren’t interested.”

He grunts a reply into her neck as he tugs up her top. She helps him get it over her head and unhooks her bra. His strong rough hands on her breasts and his teeth on her collarbone make her moan.

She undoes his belt and slips off of his lap to kneel on the floor. So much of what’s happening is uncharted territory, but she knows how to do this, knows she’s good at this, so she wastes no time in opening his fly and taking his cock into her mouth. He guides her firmly, but not too rough, with hands wound into her hair.

After a minute he pulls her off and she thinks, alarmed, that he wants to come on her face, give her a sticky maple, in the parlance of local teenage douchebags. Even more alarming is the thought that she would let him.

“Come here,” he growls, and he picks her up. She wraps her legs around his waist and lets him carry her to the bedroom. She hits the bed with a bounce and watches him undress, breathless. He unzips her skirt and yanks it down her legs along with her panties.

“Turn over. Get on your knees.”

She complies without a word. He runs his hands over her thighs, from her hips to her knees.

“You’ve got a great ass, baby girl.”

“I know,” she says, lifting her chin.

“Anyone ever done this to you before?” he asks before pressing the tip of his finger inside her ass.

“Yes.” Once, a boyfriend back in New York. It had hurt like hell and she’d dumped him a week later because he wouldn’t stop begging to do it again.

He removes his finger and she holds her breath, but he thrusts into her pussy instead. He’s not wearing a condom. She’s been on the pill since she was fourteen, but he didn’t ask. Maybe he just assumed, a girl like her. Maybe the possibility of knocking up Hiram Lodge’s little girl turns him on, the ultimate revenge.

Her clit is desperate for attention, but he’s fucking her so hard she needs both hands to hold herself up. He pushes a finger into her ass again, slowly testing her, stretching her. He’s going to fuck her in every hole tonight. The thought makes her dizzy, and she drops to her elbows.

When he’s ready, he pulls out, making her whine, and slowly, slowly presses his cock into her ass. She reminds herself to breathe. It doesn’t hurt as much this time.

“You’re doing good, baby girl.”

He rubs her back and finally, like she’s earned it now, moves a hand underneath her to rub circles around her clit. She feels pathetically grateful and shows it with mewls and whimpers and the bucking of her hips. She comes when he thrusts all the way inside her. 

He grabs her hips with both hands and starts to move a little faster. It doesn’t take long until he’s finished and she can collapse, exhausted, sore, and, as reality settles in, ashamed.

“You can use the shower,” is the only thing he says to her before he passes out. She does.

She tells Archie searching the trailer is too dangerous. They get to homecoming on time and dodge Alice Cooper's glare. She sings, and dances, and smiles, and pretends everything is okay.

When FP Jones is arrested, her shock is as genuine as her friends’. He confesses; she doesn’t. He’s not guilty of this, but he’s guilty of plenty.

Jughead cries in a booth at Pop’s, Betty watching him with shining eyes, Archie silent and tense.

“He said he acted alone. Your dad had nothing to do with it, Veronica. You must be so relieved.”

She shakes her head. She can’t judge him for his bitterness, especially knowing what she knows.

“At least it’s over. I waited my whole life for that man to do the right thing. I’m done now.”

She tells herself he’s right, that this is better. Jughead is free from loving his father, from false hope and disappointment. Part of her wishes she could do the same, make a clean break, escape her father's legacy, ensure she’ll never be anything like him.

“It’s going to be okay, Jug,” Betty says quietly. “We’re not our parents, remember?”

“Of course.” He smiles at her like she’s the sun coming out after a hurricane.

They’re going to be okay. Maybe she’ll be okay, too.


End file.
